A pretty wolf
by caycowa
Summary: Set in the future, at least 1000 years. Gourry is an old man. Its hard to summerize, because it will give away the plot. Hidden meanings. Please R


Disclaimer: I don't own slayers, really. Please don't sue.  
  
Warnings: Its a sad story so if you don't like sad stories, then its really you choice weither you read it or not. There are pairings here, but I think I've hidden them so far down you may never find them. Congrats if you do.  
  
Introduction: I know it won't make much sense the first time you read it, but read it a second time. There's a message in there. A prize to whoever figures the whole thing out. Not really a physical prize but I will bow to you. The characters all represent something. Don't try for deep meaning in the father and son they are just representing the world. Mr. Grieve is of course Gourry in the future. If it helps he's real old, older than 114, older than say a thousand. Then theres the guy thats telling the story. His not in slayers at least not yet, but he will be ( according to the way the world works ) He's a guy, and he will have a lasting mark on history. The wolf, your going to half to figure out your self. Good luck! Just stick your answers in the review box.  
  
And now for your reading ( and thinking ) enjoyment. Here's the story.  
  
  
  
  
  
A pretty wolf  
  
At first glance you'd think the poor creature to be a wolf.  
  
Poor creature you ask, why would someone call such a beautiful and majestic creature, a true spirit of the land, poor? Well it is not without good reason. You see the poor beast was starved. It was clearly weak, unhealthy. It's ribs protruded from its body like dry branches from the earth. Its bones gave it the feeling they were old, and if touched by even the gentlest fair maiden would crumble into dust. He was like a ghost, a pale soul walking bathed in the moonlight. His slender face seeped in shadow. His fur was dull. He looks so old, a lone wise one.  
  
His presence on the forest edge on that cool night in spring, sparked a thought in the villagers heads. ' Could he be the father of all wolf kind? ' The ignorant would think to call to him, to ask him to tell of his life. To ask what he once was, what he is, or will ever become. The wise knew he would not answer. He was not like any creature they'd seen. A wise man knows that a wolf will never answer, whether they can or can't, a wise man never says. They only say things like ' he would ... ' and ' I do think he .... '.  
  
'His eyes, they are intelligent, he was and is the smartest wolf ' said an old man Mr.Gabriev. Some just shook they're heads, some did nothing, but all ignored him. He was of course the towns oldest resident at least 114 years old. Some think him to be older. And of course he is crazy. He says he is not the oldest, there are lots like him, old in they're day. He'd say;  
  
'they've all returned home, but I can't '. He used to be a great swordsman in his day, really great, but that's all we know. He talks of things to anyone, and everyone, but know one really listens. At first we thought he was a great storyteller, speaking of great deeds performed by valiant knights. A little peek into the world where good always wins, and love is all that matters. The villagers no longer think him a master storyteller, ever since he assured them that they weren't myths. Not children's tales but real. Of course he's mad, everyone know its true. But I still find myself myself wondering at night in the dark as I try to sleep. I think about Mr.Gabriev and his tales. For reasons unknown I also think about the poor wolf.  
  
When I was a young man, well younger than I am now, I used to listen to Mr. Gabriev's tales back when we thought them to be just fake tales. Fiction. When our parents learned the truth, we were forbidden to listen. ' It will pervert they're minds ' I heard my friends granddad say once. Really what harm could listening to a crazed old mans stories do? He is a gentle man, he would never hurt a fly, let alone a child.  
  
They say he cried that night, alone in his room, but of course know one cares.  
  
He is only a crazy old man, traumatized by some unknown war in his past. Probably wished he'd died. At least he'd still have his honor, even if know one knew his name.  
  
Perhaps he's given different names, and fierce horrific forms to the devils that plague his mind. Perhaps they are what he talks about, his soul trapped in a fantasy world. Conceived by his mind, in which he is finally able to triumph against his madness.  
  
I still don't understand his stories, really ' a great red eye that covers the sun, and plunges the world into darkness'. It could be a symbol for something. If the sun were to be blocked the people would notice, but he said that the people did not notice and did not know that death could came the next day. Yes, symbolism makes sense, really the people would all have to be blind. 'Maybe they were' he said.  
  
Tomorrow evening the wolf walked by the village again. Mr.Gabriev was there again, and unfortunately so was an ignorant young man. When the figure of the wolf walked into view, the moonlight shiny on its coat. The young delinquent turned to Mr.Gabriev and said 'your little wolf friend has returned, perhaps you should run out and howl at the moon'. His father was there with him. But instead of punishing him for disrespecting his elders, he turned to Mr.Gabriev. Waiting for an answer. I can understand people wanting a good laugh, especially now with the resent outbreak of war in the Northern kingdoms. But to get that laugh at the expense of a poor old man? That is just plain cruel.  
  
Instead of getting mad, or maybe he just didn't understand that it was an insult. What he said next I'll remember till the end of my days, and I'll be sure to tell my children, and grandchildren. I'll ask them kindly to tell future generations. What he said was really odd, it didn't really make much sense now. But I'm sure that with alot of reflection on future nights it will all fall together. I've always liked a near impossible challenge. I could never understand why I thought I'd understand the world if only I could make sense of those words. It seemed to sound like I wished to find a mathematical equation for chaos. Like I was as crazy as the old swordsman.  
  
He turned to the father and son, though he could very well have been addressing the whole world.  
  
He said ' what wolf? I see no wolf. I see an old lost soul, trapped in his past. He has no voice left, for he has used it up, screaming silently at the world. A foolish world that unknowingly repeats his mistakes, and the mistakes of his forefathers. He feels he wasted his life, searching for a cure to a disease he never had. And never finding it. He is the true father of his species. Ancient mountains, living earth'.  
  
And they laughed at what he said. People can be so cruel to those that are different then themselves. They're all trapped in a world where everythings perfect and they can all see the sun. Sometimes I'd wished theyed all lose sight of the sun just to know how it feels to be alone in a world of darkness.  
  
I looked at the wolf. The poor starved creature, with dull fur, and intelligent eyes. Eyes that looked deep into your soul and told you nothing of its own beautiful soul. The wolfs' light gray-blue fur shining in the moonlight, half covered in shadows. It really made him look like a ghost. Like a lost soul, trapped forever in the night, with a near impossible quest. Was the old man telling the truth, or was this another tale weaved by the spirits in his head?  
  
Maybe he was right, maybe there was no wolf. Just a shadow of a once living, breathing man, with hopes and dreams like any other man. Like the people today, like the people of my village, like myself.  
  
Mr.Gabriev came to my house that night and gave me a note. I never saw him again. Its like he vanished into the shadows of the night. I hate to think about his body laying somewhere far away. In an unmarked grave, guarded by the pretty wolf. Chasing demons and finding love in the stars with his friends.  
  
The note read;  
  
He gives his life to the world, wrapped in the clothes of his lost love. He tries to save the whole world. He told me before he drew his last breath ' everyone knows that one man cannot save the world, but perhaps a wolf could'. He was always an optimist, its what kept him going. Everyone knew him as everything but an optimist, they laughed at me when I said that's what he really was. It really doesn't matter what they thought, I mean to them I was an idiot.  
  
Now I think people aren't wolves and maybe neither was he. Perhaps I, myself am mad like Mr.Gabriev was. I sometimes see dragons in my sleep. They are angry at me. They want to kill me, because I block the sun. 


End file.
